The Special Prisoner.
MAKROS'S POV
I leaned back in my seat, fingers tapping idly against my knee as the car wove through the streets. The driver, Enzo, wasn't new, but he didn't live in the Crete estate either. Some of the men had families, homes elsewhere. They worked in shifts, coming and going as needed.
The late-morning sun was relentless, causing heat rippling off the asphalt as we hit another stretch of traffic. Horns blared, drivers shouted from their windows, and the line ahead crawled forward, inch by frustrating inch.
Enzo exhaled sharply. "Damn mess. You want me to take the side roads, boss?"
I barely glanced up. "Won't matter if we hit another jam."
"True, but I know a way through the back streets. Won't be as smooth, but at least we'll keep moving."
I nodded. "Do it."
He veered off the main road, cutting through narrow streets lined with old buildings and sun-faded awnings. The air smelled of fresh bread from a bakery we passed, mixing with the heat of the day. The drive was bumpy but at least we were moving, well until we weren't.
Up ahead was a roadblock.
Enzo cursed under his breath as he brought the car to a stop."Che palle. (Of course, just our luck.)"
Some of the officers lounged by their cars, chatting idly, but the moment their eyes landed on the customized plates, and tinted car, their posture shifted. Recognition flickered across their faces, followed by quick, knowing glances between them. They wouldn't dare waste my time.
Enzo rolled down the window, flashing a grin. "Busy day, huh?"
One of the officers—Romano, according to his badge, smirked. "Busier now." His gaze flicked to me. "Didn't expect to see you coming this way."
"Didn't plan to," I said, resting my elbow against the window frame. "Traffic's a mess on the main roads. Figured I'd take a shortcut."
Romano chuckled. "Yeah? Well, you know how it is. Gotta keep an eye on things."
I pulled out a few crisp lira notes and handed them over. Romano took them smoothly, the motion effortless. "You've already done more than enough for me, Signor Makros," he murmured, pocketing the money.
I arched my brow. "I've not done anything special yet."
"What could be more special to me than paying for my daughter's operation?"
"Ah, just you wait and see. I hope she's doing alright these days?"
"She's perfect. Thank you."
"All good, all good."
Romano nodded, stepping back. With a motion to the others, the barricade lifted.
The car moved forward, and I didn't spare them another glance.
The facility was only a few miles ahead, tucked away in an abandoned industrial zone where time itself seemed meaningless. The air reeked of rust and decay, a fitting scentfor what this place housed. A forgotten graveyard of steel and concrete, stripped of life and purpose, left to wither under the weight of its own neglect.
I hadn't set foot here since the prisoner was transported. I couldn't risk it. There was no need. He had nowhere to go, no one coming for him. Yet every time I was reminded that he was here—breathing, waiting...it lingered in the back of my mind. A problem locked away wasn't a problem solved. Deep down, I knew the only real solution was to end him, but some part of me hesitated. Whether it was sentiment or something darker, I couldn't say.
Enzo eased the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The facility was unmarked, blending into the decaying industrial zone. I had left the prisoner in the hands of five men, and they were exactly where they should be stationed outside, alert. But they weren't just guards. They were the best. Loyal not by obligation, but by choice. I could sleep soundly knowing every single one of them would die for me without hesitation.
I stepped out of the car, the heat pressing down as the door shut behind me. Alessio was already moving, his sharp gaze sweeping over the vehicle before settling on me. He gave a curt nod. "Wasn't expecting you today."
"Would it have changed anything if you had?"
Alessio's lips twitched, not quite a smirk. "Maybe. Could've made sure we had fresh coffee at least."
